affection

For years I studied the bit of you in me,

pleased in my copycat reproduction

of suckled qualities, seeking my own sense

of intensely personal identity from the bricks you furnished.

I'd learnt to rely on the psychic support you'd taught me

to expect, as next in line to wear your own

cloned mantel; and I'd known you'd tell me true

your view on the false turnings I'd taken on the road.

Exploded now are the myths of mystical bonding,

as I fondly ponder the imminent severing of a knot.

I've got to take my boat's tiller in hand,

and plan my own course for navigation.

It left me feeling emptied and forlorn,

to understand your faith had been withdrawn.